


Pieces of You

by MelpomeneTears



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelpomeneTears/pseuds/MelpomeneTears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having already lost so much, she can not take losing anything more.  Takes place between Act 2 and Act 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song I listened to while writing this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB5PxVUn1-8)  
> I would imagine after losing so much Hawke might be a little needy and have a hard time letting go for fear of being alone.
> 
> I tried something new here. I have been almost obsessively playing DA2 and listening music. What I have found happening is that a song will come on and a little snippet of a story will pop in my head. I write it down, whether there is any context or not. What emerged was a small story arc. Some of these pieces will be very short, others longer.
> 
> Please take the time to review, I appreciate it. It's the only way I'll get better.

The room was a little chilled as she lay on their bed. She had let the fire die out hours ago, she wanted the dark. And the silence, not that it was hard to find silence in the Amell estate these days.

Memories haunted her; she closed her eyes and touched her lips, remembering the first time he had kissed her. It almost felt unreal; there had been such passion, such need in him then. They had made love times beyond counting and it had never felt routine, never felt forced, or less intense than that first time. At least not until he had stopped touching her, stopped making love to her, stopped holding her as they slept.

It had happened so gradually she had almost not even noticed at first, his coming to bed a little later each night, rising and already about his day before she awoke. She had asked if everything was alright, he had smiled and kissed her, whispering reassurances to her. And no matter how much her head told her not to listen her heart trusted that voice, loved that voice, would walk willingly into the Void for that voice.

She turned onto her side, running her fingers lovingly over the empty space beside her. He was downstairs, sitting at the desk writing...Again. She curled up on the bed, pulling his pillow against her body, a sad replacement for him. But he was...gone now, Justice had won and she had lost, Justice had taken so much more than she had ever thought possible.

She lived with the shadows now, shadows of his smile, shadows of his touch. She smiled and pretended she didn't notice, even as she felt herself withering and dying inside. Even though every breath of every day was an agony and every beat of her heart felt hollow and tinny.

Burying her head into the pillow she felt her tears, damp against her face. His faint scent filled her nostrils; soon it would be gone completely. He almost never slept anymore. What was that saying? "Justice never sleeps." She would laugh if she could remember how.

She still loved him, couldn't stop if she tried. She had held him during his nights of anguished nightmares of becoming a monster. She had smiled and kissed away his tears when he told her about what happened in Ferelden, and his fear that he would turn on her, do to her what he had done to them, what he had almost done to that girl, Ella. She had stood by his side each time they had fought against the oppression of mages. And now she lived every moment on a knife's edge waiting for those few scraps that were still...Anders.

She used to wish his eyes weren't so sad, so pained, but she would give anything to have those looks back. His blank expression now was like torture, she wondered if it was what he would look like if they made him tranquil. Was Justice any better than Meredith?

Anders had often told her that he and Justice were one, but the truth was much darker than either of them had imagined. He was learning Anders, learning how to assert his will and placating Anders, filling his head with assurances, keeping Anders focused on Meredith and the mages as he discovered how to control his new body.

Is this what Justice had always planned? To use Anders for his own needs? A powerful mage like Anders was exactly what a spirit looked for when seeking someone to possess. Had something else been the catalyst? Anders' anger maybe, or, and she shuddered at the thought, Anders' love?

He still kissed her goodnight and still smiled at her, but she wasn't sure if it was the small piece that was still Anders, or Justice imitating the life that Anders was supposed to be living. She had no illusions, Justice hadn't liked her, had thought she was a distraction, but he had seen the benefit in her name, her wealth, her protection.

She knew that as soon as Justice found her no longer useful Anders would be gone. Maybe in more ways than one, if he was even still there at all, she became convinced more and more that Anders was already gone, and any glimpses she saw were habit.

She dragged her body from the bed and padded quietly down the stairs. He was still hunched over the desk, the quill scratching on the parchment. She moved behind him and untied the leather thong in his hair, running her fingers through it. The quill paused, and he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

"You're still awake?" The voice was Anders' but there was no pleasure in it, it was just a flat statement.

"I am." She pushed down the knot of fear in her stomach; Anders loved it when she played with his hair.

"You should...sleep." His words were hesitant, like he wasn't sure of what he was saying.

"I wanted to be with you." Her fingers massaged his scalp.

"I have work to do, love. You know that."

She dropped her hands and moved to sit on the floor. She leaned against his chair, "Then I'll stay here, out of the way."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, a brief flicker behind their now dull brown. "I may be a while."

She shrugged, swallowing around the lump in her throat, "I miss you, just let me stay."

He watched her for a moment, eyes distant and blank. "If you insist." He turned and went back to his writing.

Curled on the floor at his feet, she prayed for strength.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to as I wrote this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVcBNkXEpDM)

He watched his ink stained fingers move across the page as his hand guided the quill over a straight and precise script that looked nothing like his own more flamboyant writing. His fingers were thinner than they had been, Justice apparently didn't feel hunger, and neither did he anymore. He had become...disconnected.

He could hear her quiet breathing next to him on the floor. He wanted to touch her, to hold her and kiss her until the pain went away but he couldn't exert enough control to even turn his head and look at her. "Please Justice." His voice was pleading and broken and he didn't care.

He was greeted with silence; Justice rarely deigned to respond anymore.

The sight of her tear stained cheeks had torn at him, rending another rip in his already tattered soul. Having no way to get to her, no way to comfort or reassure her, he retreated further inside of himself, into a body that still looked like him and sounded like him but wouldn't obey him at all. All he could do was watch as Justice pushed the woman he loved away, breaking her heart day after day.

She had been strong at first, pushing back against every assault, giving him tender kisses and caresses when Justice was stoic and unfeeling. And as much as Justice found her to be a hindrance, he wouldn't physically hurt her because he knew, more than anything, that would give him away.

But she was growing tired; her heart seemed to be losing the battle finally. He begged her again and again not to give up, screamed that he was still there, that he loved her, but of course he could never get the words out of his mouth.

They swam around him, in the dark corner of his mind that he was locked in now. Justice made sure not to let his control slip, his grip on Anders' body was like iron. And why not, he had lived in Anders' body for years, knew everything about it, everything about him. He walked and talked like Anders, and most people didn't seem to know the difference.

Justice had turned his body into a cold and angry prison. The irony was not lost on Anders.

She was his only tether to the world, the only reason he didn't give up and let Justice push him out completely. She had always believed in him, and even now, refused to abandon him. And he had failed her miserably.

He had been too slow, too distracted to realize what had been happening to him until it was too late. Even that wasn't completely true; he had sensed it but had brushed it off, a bit of paranoia, an ingrained fear raising its ugly head. Sitting in his small corner he had all the time in the world to reflect.

He had known he had been losing time, but hadn't wanted to think about it and the implications. Anders had no doubt that she would have found a way to help him if he had only been able to admit it to himself. But he had clung to the image he had in his head of who Justice was, so now he screamed for her help from inside a soundproof cage.

Justice truly had him trapped, he made sure that Anders couldn't even get to the Fade, but there were times when she would turn suddenly and look at him and he was sure that she had heard, that somehow she had heard his cries for help. And Justice seemed to notice, Anders could feel his concern and trepidation whenever it happened.

He would watch with careful optimism as she studied him briefly, hope in her eyes. And he felt as crushed as she looked when there was nothing more, nothing to indicate that Anders was really there. He had to find a way to reach her.

He wanted to hold her in his arms one last time, then he would end this charade of a life and would set himself free. His death would free them all, Justice and Vengeance could return to the Fade. He would be free of his prison, even oblivion felt preferable to this caged torment. And she could mourn and move on, have a real life, could be loved by someone who deserved her.

He had been worried about tying her to an apostate on the run, but now she didn't even have that. All she had was the shell of a man she loved. It tormented him, a burning disquiet, that she loved him at all, let alone enough to endure this…whatever it was. He prayed again briefly that she would free him, free them both. Surely she knew that he wouldn't want this, wouldn't even call it a life.

He tried to calm himself, if anyone could find a way to get Justice to release his strangle hold it was her. She had saved so many, including him, maybe it was too much to ask, and maybe it was too much to hope for, that she could set him free, could save him again. But it was all he had to cling to, and so he did.

Still hearing the sounds of her breathing, he thanked the Maker for the time he had shared with her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to as I wrote this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loHFIyOFEH0)

"When was the last time you ate or drank anything?"

Anders' hand waived her off absently. "I'm fine."

She stood and moved to the kitchen, she made him a sandwich and poured him a goblet of wine. Reaching up to the top shelf she pulled down a small metal flask she had hidden there a couple of weeks prior. She twisted it open and poured some into the goblet. She placed the flask back on the shelf and pulled down a second glass one, this too she open and poured into the wine.

She hiked up her nightdress and pulled a small knife from the sheath strapped around her thigh. She used the blade to stir the wine, and then slipped it back into the sheath without bothering to dry it. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths. She picked up the small tray she had placed the sandwich and goblet on and headed back to the desk.

"Here."

He still didn't look up, didn't look at her. "I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry, and look at you, you're wasting away."

"I am fine."

"At least drink the wine."

Finally, he turned his gaze to her, the dull, flat stare chilling her. He sighed heavily and picked up the goblet and quickly drained it, setting it back down before returning to his writing.

Almost shaking, she slid down onto the floor again. She pulled her nightdress up so the hem sat just below where she had the sheath strapped to her thigh. She waited, counting her breaths, and trying not to vomit from the fear roiling in her stomach.

After what felt like an eternity Anders shoved roughly to his feet, swaying. He turned to her, eyes the electric blue color that she had come to hate. "What did you give me?"

She struggled not to shudder at that eerie, resonate voice. She pushed backwards, sliding the knife free, and stood up.

He lurched towards her and held out his hands. "You will pay." She watched as Anders skin opened and blue light shone through, but it was just a trickle, a bare flickering and then it was gone. Dumbfounded, he looked at his hands, "What have you done?" When he looked up at her she saw what looked akin to fear on his face. "Am I dying?"

She shot forward and shoved him hard, knocking him backwards. Sitting astride his chest as he lay sprawled on the floor, she held her blade to his throat. "Not yet."

His breathing was rapid and uneven as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Are you listening?"

He nodded, his eyes slipping closed. She slapped him hard. His eyes flew back open and he glared at her balefully.

"You will give him back, let him free, fix whatever it is you've done to him."

He made no move and kept silent.

She pressed the knife a little harder, "I will kill you."

"You can't kill me, if I die, he dies."

She closed her eyes for a moment before leaning closer, her face just inches from him. "He would rather be dead."

They stayed that way, him struggling to stay awake and her trying to gather her nerve, in case he would not capitulate.

Suddenly, the blue eyes were gone; they were brown again, but not the cold flat brown that had been haunting her dreams, but Anders' warm and beautiful brown eyes. He grabbed the knife pressed against his throat and pressed it tight. She pulled back trying to fight him. His other hand moved into her hair and pulled her down the few inches until their lips met. She shuddered; there was all the heat, all the passion that she had fallen in love with. It was brief, but it was him.

"Do it, please. I can't go back to that; I can't stand to watch him hurt you."

She shook her head slowly and tried again to pull the knife away from his throat.

"You were the one that convinced me to put Karl out of his misery, please, do the same for me."

"I…I can't."

He pressed the knife tighter to his throat drawing small beads of blood. "It's alright, I'm not afraid. Maybe we can both be at peace."

She stared into his eyes. "I can't live without you, not anymore."

Anders closed his eyes. She watched him struggling.

"I have something…we can take it…it won't hurt."

Anders squeezed his eyes tighter and a tear slid free. "No, I won't have you do this, end your life, not for me."

"Then I guess we have no choice but to live."

Anders sighed, opening his eyes, she could see the pain, the pleading and she knew she was being selfish, but she needed him. She watched as the fatigue pulled at him, the strong sleeping potion working in his system. She saw the moment he gave in, he seemed to shrink somehow, as if the idea of having to live was too much for him. Kissing his forehead she whispered. "I'm sorry, Anders."

He nodded with a jerky movement of his head, "Move it, whatever you used, move it. He knows it's in the kitchen and he'll find it." His eyes had slipped shut. Just before he finally fell asleep he squeezed her hand. "I was calling for you...I love you."

She moved up the stairs and grabbed several pillows and blankets. She laid them out in front of the fire and half carried, half dragged him over to them. She pulled the blankets carefully up around his prone form and moved off to the kitchen to move the sedative and magebane before sliding under the blankets next to him.

She knew how stupid it was, Justice could come back at anytime, but for now it was Anders and she needed him. She curled around him, resting her head on his chest. He murmured in his sleep and slipped an arm around her, she felt like she might cry.

She watched him for what felt like hours before nodding off herself, the slow beat of his heart and the cool sharp smell that was him surrounding her, lulling her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while I wrote this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICnlyNUt_0o)

She awoke hours later, Anders' arm holding her possessively against him. She tried to pry herself loose gently, but his arm wouldn't budge. So she stayed, curled up around him, mind in turmoil. It broke her heart that he had asked her to kill him, but the rub was that she understood why.

If she had been him, she might have asked the same thing. Would Anders have been strong enough to grant her request?

Would either of them ever find release from the chains they had bound each other with?

Anders had proved all too prophetic when he had said this would be a disaster. It was, the two of them were killing each other slowly and neither of them could let go. She hated herself for being so needy and desperate, but her heart threatened to quit beating without him.

The world was falling apart around them, no that wasn't exactly right, they were tearing the world around them apart. Ripping the fabric of their known world asunder bit by bloody bit trying to find a better way, to find the freedom from nightmares they both wanted so desperately.

She was as haunted by the ghost of her father as Anders was by Justice.

When the darkness overshadowed everything else, when it felt that even they could not escape it untainted, they fell into each other's arms amongst the rubble. Like moths, they sacrificed themselves on the altar of their love; the flames engulfed them, devouring them both until there was nothing left but cold ashes.

How could they expect to find happiness when their lives were tainted with so much death and pain? She was no victim, she was no martyr, but she had made a promise and she would keep it.

She closed her eyes, she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about Fade spirits or abominations or the dark crusted line of blood across his neck. She buried her face against his chest again and sighed tiredly. The tension she had been living with the last few months had drained her, left her feeling empty and hollow, adrift.

She took slow even breaths willing her body back to sleep. "I love you, Anders." She whispered softly, calmed by the sound of his steady heartbeat.

"Love you" came the mumbled response before he shifted in his sleep, the arm around her pulling her with the movement.

She drifted back to sleep, shutting out the past and feeling secure in her lover's arms…for now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while I wrote this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dADn6KDS-s)

He wants to die. The thought hit Justice like a ton of bricks. His world had always been black or white, right or wrong. The mortal world was so solid, so unchanging, Justice had found a kind of comfort in that at first. Being in Kristoff's body had been easy, though there was an imprint of the man in the body, there were no active thoughts though, no shifting moods.

Anders…Anders had emotions and they were…messy at best. Justice was ill equipped to name them, let alone deal with them. The sheer strength of Anders anger had transformed him irrevocably forever. It had not been something he had considered when he and Anders had discussed joining forces to free mages.

Justice had not understood that Anders showed little of what he actually felt, letting humor hide it. He was not sure if it would have changed anything anyways. Mages faced such huge injustices; they had to be dealt with. But Justice often felt as if he was fighting himself instead.

Nothing was black and white anymore. He had to fight against everything, Anders' emotions clouded his thoughts and the thoughts of the _other_ , were always angry and self righteous. He was hardly ever sure which thoughts were his and which were not.

But he knew that before they had joined, Anders had not wanted to die. He, to Justice's knowledge, had done anything he could to avoid it. But now the mage craved death, saw it not as something to be feared, but something he sought to end his pain and torment.

He felt a momentary flash of anger at Anders for being ungrateful but pushed it aside, dismissing it as the thoughts of the _other_. Justice felt regret, an emotion he had become quite familiar with since joining with Anders.

Justice had been afraid of becoming a demon, seeing them as mindless and vile creatures. But in the end he had asked to join with Anders instead of returning to the Fade, seeking a foothold in the mortal world the same as any demon.

Though Justice was hesitant to call himself a demon, he now saw that he had already been corrupted by his desires before he had ever joined with Anders. He had desired to be alive and so was just as much, if not more so, to blame than Anders anger for his current predicament.

He felt the weight of Anders' woman lying against the mages' body. She had proved to be a formidable enemy. He had underestimated her, he had seen it in her eyes for a brief moment, she would have killed him, and Anders, if need be. But they were not done yet, the mages were not yet free, there was work to be done still.

But it nagged at him, pulled at him; it…pained him, that his friend craved death. Justice understood that he had done that to Anders. That he had caused the mage to go from fully embracing life to craving death.

He had thought he was helping Anders, hadn't he? Anders had been distracted with thoughts of the woman, so he had taken over to do what needed to be done. It didn't ring completely true though and Justice recoiled from the idea. He had known what he was doing, at least part of him had.

Justice had known that he was trapping Anders, stealing Anders' freedom, and had done it anyways. And no matter what cause they were fighting for, or how emotions confused him, he knew that it wasn't right. He had trapped and enslaved Anders, had done to him exactly what the mage feared most.

My dear friend, I am so sorry. If he had eyes or tears he would have wept.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while I wrote this chapter.  
> [link](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8KQmps-Sog)

_The Templars are the monsters here, the Chantry is the regime. They must be stopped. They imprison and torture mages. They steal their thoughts, their feelings, leaving empty worker bee husks. They are less than even slaves, they are drones unable to even find the will to fight back._

 _We are trying to free all of the mages of Kirkwall, all of the mages of Thedas. Some things are bigger than Anders, bigger than his needs and his wants. He chose this path, we are merely keeping him on it. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good._

 _Mortals are fragile things, confused by their shifting moods. We are providing clarity and purpose._

 _Both of you like to pretend I don't exist, but you both know I am necessary._

 _Do you want to wait to see how much damage Meredith can do? How many mages she will make Tranquil, how many more rights and privileges she can take away from the mages?_

 _Do you want to wait until she comes for Anders? You know she will. She would have already killed him if she could just find him._

 _If I have to kill every last Templar in Kirkwall to free the mages I will. And any that stand in my way, that worthless Grand Cleric, that prat Sebastian, and **anyone** else._

That elicited a response, he felt Justice tense and Anders bristled, anger flooding through him. Vengeance too felt the weight of her body against them, against their body, felt Anders, even lulled in sleep clinging to her protectively.

 _She faces no danger from me; she is a fighter for the cause, actively seeking to assist mages whenever she can. Think on it, she is no less vicious than I am, no less single minded in her determination to see mages freed. Would that field in Ferelden have even have phased her?_

 _Turn her loose, tell her what we need. She will find it, she will see it done._

No response but a faint recoiling from them both.

 _Very well, but remember, when you are being the victim, the martyr, that she could have been **our** champion, **our** liberator._


End file.
